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“I’m serious,” Andy insists. “You’re huge. My buddy’s cousin goes to Lancaster and said it’s nuts there. You’re ranked first in the country!”
“Yeah, I know,” I say before taking a long sip of my drink.
His words aren’t terrible for my ego, though. Nice to know someone here appreciates what I’ve accomplished since leaving.
“Hooking up with you in high school earned me some major cool points at college, by the way.”
“Still a gentleman, I see.”
Andy grins. “So, what’s it like?—”
“Saylor! We need you for the cake.” Hallie appears.
I let out another long breath, trying to summon some patience. Talking to Andy was the first time I was semi-enjoying myself all night. “Why? Do I have to cut it up?”
Andy snorts. Hallie glares.
I down the rest of my cocktail like a shot. “See you, Jacobson.”
“I’ll save you a dance, Scott,” he calls out as Hallie hauls me off.
“Maybe there could be one part of the wedding I don’t have to be front and center for?” I suggest.
“It’s not particularly fun having to track you down for every event,” she retorts.
“Then don’t,” I reply, a bit sharper than I mean to. “And don’t think I don’t know you had something to do with the dance.”
“If I don’t, then Dad will be upset. Now Sandra too. And if I’d told you about the dance, you probably would have hid in the bathroom or something.”
“Yeah. Obviously.”
“Was it really that bad?” she asks.
“It was…weird.” The strangest part being that it felt like dancing with my dad. Not a stranger. Not a source of strife. The closest to a normal moment we’ve shared in a long time.
We reach the dance floor, which has been cleared for the cake. It’s three tiers that match the room décor perfectly, all white with flowers that have been dyed gold. Or are made of gold-colored frosting. Cressida could probably tell.
Champagne is passed around, and Sandra’s father makes a toast. Rather than the customary sip, I drain the entire glass as my father and Sandra make an impractical team attempt at slicing through the dessert.
I snag another glass of champagne as everyone oohs and aahs over the slow process.
“How many of those have you had?” Hallie looks over and eyes the glass flute in my hand.
“Not enough.” I take a sip of fizzy liquid.
“Don’t be selfish, Saylor.”
It’s amazing how, after twenty-one years, Hallie still doesn’t know people pushing me only makes me push back. Harder.
I grab a second glass from the display, double-fisting champagne.
“Me? Selfish? Never.” I take a sip and send her a sweet smile. At least I own up to it.
Hallie backs down and looks away, just like I knew she would. I also know it’s not because she doesn’t care. She just avoids confrontation the same way I seek it out.
Plates of cake finally start to disseminate amongst the crowd. I grab one and, with another full glass of champagne, head outside. The patio is empty now. I’m guessing it’s the lack of appetizers combined with the slight chill in the air. Coming from Connecticut, the temperature still feels tropical to me.
I settle on one of the concrete benches and stare out at the manicured golf course.
